


Take Me To Church

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angel Calliope, Caliborn shoots up a club but it isn't graphic, Demon Caliborn, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, Multi, Polyamory, Reader Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-26
Updated: 2015-02-26
Packaged: 2018-03-15 07:44:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3439193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He is darkness.</p><p>She is light.</p><p>They are eternally opposed.</p><p>You love them both.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take Me To Church

Her lips are sweet, pure, and her teeth flash white when she throws her head back to laugh. Her hands are soft and they always smell of citrus when she threads them through your hair. Her voice is music, light harp strings plucked by fragile fingers too thin for health. If you were to compare her to anything, you couldn’t; there is nothing(no one) in heaven or earth that would compare to her.

Her presence is light and beauty and she brings smiles to the faces of all around her. The light catches in her pale hair and bright eyes as she swings a child around in enraptured delight. _Heaven has no such things,_ she tells you with cherry blossoms falling around her and landing on your shoulders, _and it’s so delightful!_ Almost nothing dims her spark, and she labors for free bringing her immeasurable passion to anything, anyone, whatever as long as she spreads goodness.

You walk with her in parks and museums where she reaches up to brush her hands along living leaves and squeals like a little child at the canvases older than the building they hang in. She shows you how to give hope and at her direction you carry food and clothes to homeless people. You build play forts and read books to children you know will not see the next winter, and you are the one to hold her after that day leaves and she cries for their small lives. But soon she’s back up again, knowing they will go to her Home and she can play with them again and they will be happy and free of earthly pain.

She is light.

He is darkness.

He pulls you in his wake of leather and blood and gives you the heart of corruption you’ve reached for and shrunk from. You hang onto his waist and shoulders as you drive the restless world and he tells you the plans he has, in his dark voice, that give you shivers of fear and excitement. His touch is hot and painful on your back, sides, and face while drugs burn through your body and you ride out highs that would kill another human. You are his willing student as he teaches you lust and games and most of all, the raw, dark joy of being able to simply _take._

His presence brings a cloak of shadow to any area and parents pull their children away from him if they walk past you two. The gleam of light in ruby eyes is enough to know trouble is coming and coming fast, when there are twisted games to play and lives to raze. You rest your head on his shoulder while he gives orders that kills men, women, families, to crush them under his fist, for he is the only powerful one he will allow. _Your kind are so fucking stupid, worse than the bitches in Hell,_ he tells you with cherry cola on his lips and his drumming fingers hungry for causing harm, hungry for blood. _I should make ‘em all listen to me, dance for us, and then we’d have some real fucking fun._

No one(nothing) is like him; he’s cruel and twisted in a way that jabs through your ribs and into your heart and it hurts like hell. His voice can be music, but it’s an electric scream of guitar strings pushed too hard and razing the fingers of the musician. His hands are scentless and rough when they touch you but the pain is something you enjoy. His lips are rougher and leave marks on yours, and the only time you see his teeth is when he pulls his slasher’s grin and when he leaves his marks on you.

***

Her appearance was one of comfort, on a day you sang for those who hated you and tears stained the neckline of your navy satin costume. Your back hurts from pressing against hard concrete in an attempt to calm yourself enough to reappear before hateful crowds. When a soft hand brushes a piece of flyaway paper from your shoulder and you look up, you are greeted with white hair and lime eyes and the kindest smile you have seen since the last time you saw your mother. 

She gives you a tissue and pretends not to notice your amazed stare at her sheer being, her glowing light. Her hands steer you back inside, with hope and a few kind words, and the next moment you can sing again, but the world is darker in her absence. It grows bright again when she comes to your next performance.

His appearance is one of temptation, on a day where your thoughts have grown black and heavy and the pulse and screech of music is your only escape. The ache in your body only grows more pronounced with each gyration you make, but you can’t stop the burning in your mind. Though you find it hard to notice when someone grips your hips in their hands and rips you away from the place you had danced.

His eyes burn red under the fringe of black hair that barely hides his forehead, and the wicked grin he gives you while spinning you around and around toward the back of the club fills you with equal measures curiosity and anger. You barely manage to slip from his grasp when he moves to throw you into the glass table, and an assault rifle appears in his hands to spray the club with bullets. You barely escape with your life, and on the way home hot breath lands on your neck before you spin around to see his grinning face.

***

Your soul is pulled apart by pain and love and fear. His eyes are behind your lids when you sleep, and hers haunt your every waking hour. They’ve mentioned each other to you enough that you know; they’re twins, reflections of each other, opposed and equals and beautiful and imperfect. He is fascinated by the dark threads working their ways through you, while she cradles the light-filled whole. Your heart cannot be split between them, your soul cannot be both pure light and pure dark, so it remains divided.

Your song is your own kind of power; when they hear you sing their expressions look frighteningly alike, both somehow entranced by your simple gift. You don’t pretend to hold any power over them-in fact, you don’t really know why they’ve stuck around for so long-but you like to think your song, at least, makes them care about you. Tonight will test it.

You can tell when they are coming, to an extent; it’s like an itch at the back of your mind. You feel both her itch and his itch, so tonight will be eventful. You don’t think they know how much you know the other...and to be honest, you are afraid. You love them both. You cannot lose them.

While the song blooms from your throat and serenades the few early arrivals, you wait. Your hands are balled in the pockets of your pants, and all the people paying attention can hear the nervous shortness of your breath. You almost want to stop breathing. The hospital would be more welcoming than the firestorm you are sure you are about to ignite.

She arrives first, pushing the door open gently with lilies in her hair and in her lapel. The smile that lights up her face when she sees you on stage makes your heart ache like you’ve run a marathon. She almost dances toward you, light on her feet, when she stiffens and turns around just as the door bursts open with a gust of air, cracking against the wall.

He strides in like he owns the place, glowing red and leather and sin, only to stop short at the sight of his sister’s face contorted with rage. He’s shocked for a moment, but his mouth twists unpleasantly and his hand twitches toward where you know he keeps the gun. She steps forward at the same time he does, and they lock together. Her pistol is under his chin and his rifle is pressed between them, aiming toward her head. They’re about to tear into each other when you give a strangled gasp of terror and begin to sing.

They both turn toward you in shock, only for her eyes to brim with tears and his jaw to drop in shock. You pour your love into your words, pour every ounce of feeling in you can without overexerting yourself. They slowly separate, each sheathing their guns, and come forward when you stretch your hands in a silent plea.

You sing of the beauty of her light and the beauty of his darkness. You sing of the pleasure you find with both of them, every light and dark bit of it, wrapped in a cloak of false words so as not to alarm the other people. You sing everything you can put into words, and everything you cannot put into words. Near the end, they both come forward, faces guarded but soaking your song in, staying five feet away from each other.

As you let the last note fade, you take note of their expressions. Neither looks very happy, but you can’t really blame them. You should have said something sooner, but it’s water under the bridge. All you have left is what you do now.

You extend your hands, one to each twin, and you plead for peace with your eyes and a single, murmured _“Please”_. They cast a glance at each other, a sort of silent conversation, and then twist back abruptly fast. He grabs your left hand and she grabs your right and you are pulled from the stage easily. You end up with your face pressed to his collarbone and her face buried in your hair. Both their arms encircle you tightly, into an embrace you are not sure you ever want to leave.

The next moment, two voices ring out at the same time, one soft and high, the other low and raspy, both forming the same word.

_“Ours.”_

You let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding as you are pulled away from your club, into the embrace of the rain and wind with a demon and an angel. You lose track of which one’s shoulder your head rests on as they take you away. You don’t know where you’re going. You trust them enough to not protest.

You cannot be saved by anyone now, but from them, you don’t think you’ll need saving.


End file.
